


ballroom blitz

by Thegaygumballmachine



Category: VALORANT (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Consensual Nonconsent, Drugs, F/F, ask to tag, codenames as scene identifiers, nanobite supremacy, science ladies using science jargon for sexy purposes, viper and killjoy practicing good bdsm etiquette: the novel, viper's hands only work for like half of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegaygumballmachine/pseuds/Thegaygumballmachine
Summary: “Are you taking your data, then? Marking your results?”“Yes,” says Viper, casually. “Do you have a problem with that? I was under the impression that you liked to be used.”--or, the one where killjoy is way kinkier than anyone gives her credit for.
Relationships: Killjoy/Viper (VALORANT)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	ballroom blitz

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically a prerequisite to the hypnofic the valorant writers’ discord convinced me to write lol?? so watch out for that coming soon in this same universe or smth...
> 
> as you can probably imagine, this is HIGHLY inspired by 'six impossible things before breakfast' by mithen. i've loved that concept for years and been wanting to put my spin on it, so here you go.
> 
> i cannot stress enough that this is CONSENSUAL NONCONSENT. killjoy puts herself in a position where she is incapable of consenting because she wants to, and because she trusts viper to navigate that in a loving way. if that bothers you or will trigger you, please don't read this.
> 
> all mistakes belong to me. all characters in this belong to riot games. i sure as shit hope they don't read it ever.

Something feels different about today.

For one thing, the toxicology lab is completely unlocked; for someone as compulsive about her privacy as Viper is, it raises a red flag immediately that Killjoy can just walk right in with her habitual bright “Hallo!”. Where she normally has to knock nonstop for about a minute and a half before Viper tires of it and lets her in on a growl, the first tap of her knuckles swings the door right open now.

There’s a strange feeling in her gut, apprehensive. She woke up with it and carried it through to now, some instinct going off that she can’t consciously understand. She’s tired and it shows: slower reaction times, generally more suspicion than she usually displays. 

“Good morning,” says Viper, in an uncharacteristic and mildly frightening show of affection. “I made you a coffee. Two sugars, isn’t that right?” 

Killjoy blinks, flicking her gaze rapidly between the paper cup in Viper’s hand and her piercing, judgmental expression. She’s distrusting of the entire situation, knows exactly the picture this paints to an unbiased observer. Knows Viper often likes to administer her venom with a saccharine smile, creating a small irony to look back on after her prey is long dead.

It would be more dangerous to outright refuse, and Viper has been somewhat kinder to her of late anyway, so she takes the cup and squints at it. 

“Yes, thank you,” she says, warily. “Is everything… alright? Are your toxins sufficiently deadly?”

“Quite so.” She turns into the larger room, granting Killjoy a reprieve, and slinks away to check on a set of beakers. “I was already making my own, don’t think I went out of my way.” 

“It hadn’t once occurred to me,” she says, but there’s a lightness to it, a relief, and she takes a cautious sip to find that it’s really very good. Rich, expensive; certainly not the five dollar stuff Brimstone stocks the common area with. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“If you like that sort of thing.”

Viper likes rain, and rivers; she’s never said it but Killjoy can tell, has seen her smile once or twice on overcast days. She would probably like Berlin a great deal. 

Killjoy clears her throat and drinks to have something to do. This part is always awkward with Viper, the small talk before they move on to work, but it’s a necessary evil in her mind. If they’re ever going to be friends, they need to know each other better.

(Not that Viper has a vested interest in being her friend.)

“What are you working on?” she asks, breaking early this time. “I mean, if you want to tell me. If it’s not confidential or… anything like that _. _ ”

“No, not confidential… of a sensitive nature, perhaps. Look at this.”

She dims the lights and motions Killjoy over to a small vial of what looks like sparkling water, transparent and fizzing. Under the worklamp it’s almost red, but never quite colors. Killjoy pushes her glasses up and considers it, intrigued. She’s starting to wake up now, starting to notice more. Maybe she just needed a shot of caffeine.

“What is it?”

“Colloquially, it’s called Glory. It attacks inhibitory centers in the brain. Many strains are used as interrogation devices, truth serums, et cetera… this strain, which was only recently discovered, also increases activity in the reward centers, temporarily boosting production of oxytocin and dopamine.”

She tilts the vial slightly and pours a drop out onto the counter, wiping it up with the pad of her finger. The glove appears untouched to Killjoy, but Viper seems to see something there. A fresh sense of dread washes over her and the hair on her neck pricks up.

“It’s largely untested,” says Viper, “but should in theory work like a traditional aphrodisiac.”

She observes Killjoy with the air of a predator waiting to strike, every bit as cunning as her namesake. Killjoy looks down, down into the coffee she’s gotten through about half of by now, and tries in vain to steady herself. 

“Sabine,” she murmurs. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s quite the peculiar drug,” Viper muses. “I wonder how you’ll take to it. You’ve proven yourself to be an excellent test subject in the past...”

Her voice is dark - there’s no other way of describing it, dark and velvety and Killjoy feels a flash of heat in her neck and face, this slow, pulsing warmth that keeps time with her heartbeat. That’s something she both loves and hates about Viper, the way she says so much in the margins of her words. She couches it all in this grandiose malevolence that is becoming steadily more attractive with every passing second.

“Oh,  _ Gott _ ,” she whispers, and closes her eyes, nearly crushing the paper cup in her hand before she can manage to remember it’s there. Viper circles her, settles behind her in a rush of sound. 

“Surely you can’t be  _ scared _ ,  _ maus _ ? Surely you can’t be  _ frightened  _ of what I might do to you?”

There is nothing to say; a large part of her burns brightly with that fear and she certainly can’t admit to it. Showing weakness to a snake is a death in itself, but to falsely reassure Viper, to  _ lie to her,  _ would be equally as damning. 

And yet, the fabric of her sweater is suddenly that much softer, that much more luxurious against her skin, and Viper becomes so alluring in the low light. Idly, Killjoy runs two fingers along her own jaw, fixating heavily on anything that isn’t her ( _ gorgeous _ ) tormentor. She’s never been drugged, can’t imagine how it will feel. It eats at her, the waiting, the helplessness.

“Oh, this  _ is _ good,” says Viper, right up next to her ear, and Killjoy lets go what might very well be a whimper. “Promising indeed. Breathe deeply now, circulate that blood for me…”

Against her best judgement, Killjoy does; Viper’s voice is kind to her ears, sounds gentler than it did even a moment ago. She breathes and feels herself giving in, willpower easing out of her in slow, steady exhalations. Her grip relaxes and the cup falls to the floor, unnoticed. Cooling coffee splashes across her boots.

The warmth spreads faster now, pooling in her abdomen with such strength and force that she nearly tips over, and she knows how this feels but she’s never felt it so strongly in all her life. She’s almost feverish and thoughts are beginning to push themselves to the front of her mind, these  _ urges  _ she can’t seem to control. It’s as though her only function, her only purpose, is to feel this.

(And didn’t Viper say that in so many words, before?)

“Sabine,” she says, a little breathy, a little manic.

“Hmm?”

“Fix it. You did- if you did this to me then you must  _ fix it. _ ”

“Ah,” says Viper, gleefully. “Ask me nicely and I’ll think about it.”

(Viper, who can come up with reams of filth to growl with Killjoy pinned beneath her but has never really asked for anything in return, who knows just how deeply Killjoy blushes when asked to say as little as  _ fuck  _ in certain contexts, would now like her to  _ ask nicely. _ )

“Please,” she gasps, turns into Viper so they’re chest to chest, centimeters apart. Her lips have gone so dry in the last few minutes, unnaturally dry, and she thinks she’s beginning to sweat. Desperation catches in her throat and she falls into a string of harried German, pleading. It’s easier to beg when she knows Viper won’t fully understand what she says.

“Good girl,” purrs Viper, so close as to share Killjoy’s breath, and tucks her thumbs into her prey’s waistband on a decidedly indelicate kiss.

\----

_ “I have a fantasy,” says Clara. _

_ They’re in bed together, sweat cooling on their backs, and this has always been a problem for her; she’s talkative at all times and afterglow just makes it worse, makes her let things slip that ought to stay unsaid. Sabine lifts her head and stares at her unblinkingly, waiting for the payoff.  _

_ “Now don’t ask me to explain why, sexual psychology is  _ absolutely _ not my area, but… I find it… well, I find it attractive when you use your poisons for interrogations.” _

_ The end comes out all in a rush and she’s beet red by the time she’s finished but the words are out, at least, and judging by the look in Sabine’s eyes, they are very well received. She raises a brow and Clara quails, looks pointedly at the ceiling. _

_ “You want me to interrogate you,  _ maus _?” _

_ “I want you to-  _ scheisse _ , I  _ really _ shouldn’t tell you that.” _

_ “You’ve come this far,” says Sabine. There’s a smirk in her voice and she draws her fingers up Clara’s thigh, teasing. Clara groans, covers her face with her hands, and begins to speak in her lowest register.  _

_ “I like the thought of you creating a poison that could make someone… crave… certain things.” _

_ There are eyes on her; she knows it but can’t see it, can’t face the judgement. Sabine’s fingers dip between her thighs and she gasps, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t break. _

_ “I see,” says Sabine. “You want to beg for my touch, to become incapable of refusing it, because your desperation will have a purpose then. To be desperate for me now is to admit to needing this…” she presses inward, slides two gloved fingers inside, and Clara’s legs part for her easily. “... but if I engineered the situation around you, you wouldn’t need to admit anything at all.” _

_ “Tell me again what your minor was at university,” says Clara, breathlessly. _

_ “Guess,” drawls Sabine. Slowly, methodically, she goes to work.  _

\----

“You have three choices today,” says Viper. She’s gotten Killjoy down to panties and the sweater, and the air on her thighs makes her wonder if the doors are locked and the windows covered but there’s not much she can do about that if they aren’t. Her jeans serve as a cushion now that she’s relocated to sitting on the counter, Viper standing between her legs. She’s started to feel dizzy, almost struggling to breathe.

“You can deal with this yourself, while I watch, take my tongue at  _ exactly  _ the pace I choose, or you can tell me where you keep that toy you’ve wanted to give me for weeks.”

Viper won’t like her doing it, but she has enough clarity left to read between the lines: the tremors are worse today, worse enough to make any precise movement difficult for the time being. Sympathy and need war in her and then she processes the last option and outright moans behind clenched teeth, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s in my bedroom, but I can’t- not like this, I can’t wait that long.”

“That’s for later then,” says Viper. “For now…”

“I need you,” breathes Killjoy, and Viper laughs, low and sultry. There’s the sound of cloth moving and Killjoy can’t look, can’t do anything but breathe and think of other things - blueprints, formulae, potential turret upgrades - for fear of ending this before it even really begins. She imagines Viper on the floor, still in her lab coat, and that’s almost enough on its own. 

“Hold still,” says Viper, and slides her panties down her legs. Every new breath drags Killjoy’s nipples against her sweater and she really feels like she might die, can’t take another second - and then Viper’s tongue is on her, curling around her clit just how she likes, and she’s torn between extremes, biting her cheek until it bleeds to keep from screaming the compound down.

“There,” she gasps, “Just there-  _ meine Güte,  _ Sabine _ , yes... _ ”

Far from earning the reaction she expects, her enthusiasm instead discourages Viper; she turns light and almost sweet with her strokes, kitten licks that feel incredible but never build up to any substance. She’s playing, of course she is, playing with her food and getting Killjoy so wet she can’t think of anything else. Mindlessly, she steadies herself with one hand behind her back and drags the other up to pinch her own nipple through fabric. 

It helps, but not much, not enough. Shocks of pleasure rush through her haphazardly, and it’s all so disorganized, makes her whine and pant in a way she’s sure Viper revels in but still leaves her dissatisfied at the end of it. Every time she gets close it gets less, Viper backing off to a softness that’s usually so uncharacteristic and has never been more unwelcome. She grows rougher, tries to compensate by biting her own lip and twisting her fingers, and Viper pulls back altogether.

“I thought I told you to hold still,” she says. “And that  _ I _ would set the pace for this.”

“If you’re just going to edge me all day, I’d like to change my choice,” bites Killjoy, tilting her head back in a desperate attempt to recover. The tendons in her neck tense and Viper barks a laugh, short and filthy. 

“ _ Mäuschen, _ ” she murmurs, teasing. “Calm yourself. Just think about how it’s going to feel when I do let you… snap. You’re wetter than I’ve ever seen you.”

“Are you taking your data, then? Marking your  _ results? _ ”

“Yes,” says Viper, casually. “Do you have a problem with that? I was under the impression that you liked to be used.”

It goes through Killjoy like wildfire; she shudders hotly and slumps against the wall behind her, overcome. There’s just too much there, too many different ways Viper might eventually decide to  _ use  _ her. Her mind races and she’s helpless to stop it, moaning in the back of her throat.

“Awful woman,” she breathes. Viper taps her leg with the backs of her fingers and she looks down on instinct, poised to regret her lapse; instead she gets a look of vague concern, cruelty abandoned for the moment. It breaks the haze, a little. There’s an actual notepad on the floor, covered in doctor’s script.

“Give me a color.”

“Green,” she says, instantly. She blushes on it, on the enthusiasm she delivers it with, and Viper’s smile doesn’t much help. It’s sadistic, almost, and she really doesn’t have to try to look evil, flips some switch in her brain that makes her eyes turn black. 

“Be good, then, and take what I give you. Submission under Glory… well, after a time it should become orgasmic in itself. Answering my questions, obeying my commands; these are actions that give you  _ rewards. _ ”

She punctuates this with two fingers on Killjoy’s clit, rubbing slow, meaningful circles. There’s the occasional hitch in her movement but Killjoy barely notices, can barely register anything but the thrill the word ‘reward’ now holds for her.

“So command me,” she whispers, and Viper’s smile grows.

**Author's Note:**

> songs for this chapter:
> 
> -obviously ballroom blitz by sweet  
> -get some by lykke li  
> -looking glass by roses & revolutions  
> -anything bowie.


End file.
